


The Soulmark

by Kikimay



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Community: hp_goldenage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, Snark, Soulmark Trope with a twist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-21 10:42:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13739187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kikimay/pseuds/Kikimay
Summary: Inspired by prompt number P36: “reinterpretation of soulmates/soulmarks”. After thirty years of marriage, Draco discovers a soulmark on his husband’s shoulder, while he has none. Harry’s soulmate is out there and his marriage might be over.





	The Soulmark

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my beta LES, who kindly corrected this story while writing herself another, and thank you to the creator of the original prompt. It was so inspiring for me! I really wanted to challenge the trope of soulmate/soulmark as something that is already chosen for you and that you have to accept. I’m afraid I wasn’t able to go for a polyamorous happy ending, but I hope this story will be enjoyable all the same. It features a Draco as contrary as myself.

The hissing sound from the Floo downstairs disrupted Draco’s sleeping pattern. The wizard pressed his nose against the pillow, grey eyes suddenly wide open. After the blast of the green flames a more subdued sound followed; Draco recognised the man currently cursing in his living room and sighed, adjusting the pillow against the headboard.

Harry whispered another soft curse before reaching their bedroom. He took off his boots, left them by the armchair and went straight to the bathroom. A beam of light crossed the room.

Draco rolled his eyes trying to ignore the irritating brightness. Finally Harry hurried to close the door that he opened again twenty minutes later, wearing just underpants and socks. He reached the bed and pulled the covers aside.

“I woke you up again, didn’t I?” he whispered, halfway through the sheets.

Draco turned to him.

“I’m sorry, love,” Harry apologised, pressing his lips against the husband’s nose and clutching at him. His feet were utterly freezing.

“Cast a warming spell!” Draco protested, voice still hoarse from sleep. Harry obliged and his feet turned to a pleasant room temperature. Draco sighed, sliding his legs between his husband’s. He palmed the broader, naked chest underneath his body and felt the tickling of Harry’s hair.

“How was it?”

“Ha,” Harry curled his lips in a tired smile. “A complete and utter fuckery.”

“Mmmhh.”

“I’m just glad I’m home,” he added, sneaking a hand under his husband’s pants. “What a fuckery.”

“Would you like to fuck me, instead?” Draco suggested.

“Yes,” Harry grinned, the whiteness of his teeth bright in the dark. “Yes, please.”

*

It was Draco who woke up first. He rolled over the sheets to reach the bedside table, where his wand was placed. Only when he secured his grasp on it, he realised that he was holding Harry’s wand.

It didn’t matter much. The holly emitted a distinct aura of protective magic under his fingertips and Draco was able to cast a successful Lumos spell.

He turned to Harry, who was sleeping clawed against a pillow, and pressed his face in the hollow between his shoulder blades. He tried to close his eyes and go back to sleep, but a blue patch on Harry’s left shoulder caught his attention.

It was a tiny symbol, like a wiped half-circle with a line underneath. Draco looked closer and touched it with his fingers while Harry was snoring, blissfully unaware of his examination. He even pinched it, but it must have been painless because Harry didn’t wake up. Still, Draco decided to consult his books about it.

*

Eggs and sausages were placed on the table, Draco was drinking his morning tea.

“By the way,” he started casually. “Were you hit by a spell yesterday … a curse?” he asked.

Harry turned to him. He was standing in front of the toast machine, waiting for his bread to be perfectly roasted as he liked.

“I don’t think so. Why?”

“You don’t think so?”

“I wasn’t,” Harry replied, scratching his belly.

“You weren’t that sure a minute ago.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You know you’re getting too old for field work,” Draco murmured, lips pressed against the cup. “Maybe it was something sneaky, something too fast for you and you don’t even remember it.”

Harry glared at him while the toaster uttered a long, smoky whistle.

“Are we having breakfast or are we arguing?”

“I’m not arguing, just pointing out the facts.”

Harry sat down next to him. He placed the toasted slices of bread on a plate and served himself a generous amount of eggs with two sausages. Draco gave him a look of disapproval.

“It’s Sunday, I’m allowed!” he defended himself. “On Sunday I can.”

His husband let out an indulgent sigh and cleaned his lips with a white handkerchief.

“And why that question anyway?” Harry inquired, after two mouthful of eggs.

“I was under the impression that … nothing, I was wrong.”

“You were wrong? You?”

A gentle hand rested on Harry sharp knuckles.

“It happens to the best of us, love.”

*

The Floo activated in a bright lighting of green flames. Pansy’s face appeared.

“Here I am!” she announced, stepping out of it. “What was so urgent that required my presence at this hour on Sunday morning? You have never …”

“Come in, come in!” Draco urged, almost twisting her arm. “Harry is at the Burrow. Hugo and Teddy wanted to show him whatever Muggle rubbish they discovered this time and we are alone,” he explained, tugging at Pansy’s robe and examining her left and right shoulders.

“Hey!” she protested, adjusting her dress. “I didn’t come here at ten o’clock in the morning to be viciously attacked and undressed!”

“Ten in the morning is a perfectly reasonable hour, Pansy. You talk as if I called you before the rising of the sun.”

“It is the rising of the sun for me!” the witch protested. “What happened to you?” she added, pointing at her shabby friend surrounded by ancient books. “What happened to this place?”

“I needed to do some research, but you are clean. You have nothing on your shoulders.”

“Draco, my darling, if you don’t explain in less then a minute …”

 _“A soulmark!”_ Draco screamed, eyes wide open. He put both hands on his face and turned to his old working books before taking a deep breath and answering more calmly. “A soulmark appeared on Harry’s back. I realised it this morning, when we were in bed. He was asleep and I had the chance to take a good look at it … it’s a soulmark, my research confirmed it.”

“Well, show me yours! It’s not in a forbidden place, right?” Pansy replied, amused.

“Merlin, Circe and Morgana … I haven’t called you at dawn to show you my genitals, Pansy! A soulmark is on Harry’s back and … I don’t have one.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me quite well,” he continued. “I searched and … I don’t have one. I’m not his soulmate.”

The witch looked around. She put her hand on the white sofa, red nails tapping the fabric. She considered her friend’s words for a moment.

“That’s impossible!” she finally replied. “If there’s a couple who should get a bloody soulmark that’s you and Harry. How long have you been together? You can use his wand at will, cast a complementary Patronus and such. You have a strong bond!”

“It may be strong, but it’s not the strongest. Somewhere in the world there’s a person for Harry who’s better than me.”

“For Circe’s sake!” Pansy snapped, falling back against the sofa cushions. “You are Draco Malfoy! You worked for years as Unspeakable, helped in some truly dangerous cases and … are you really having a mental breakdown over a soulmark? Do you remember what my Nana used to say about soulmarks? _‘Horseshit designed by the Half-blood to marry well and proper.’_ That’s nothing mystical about it.”

“Your Nana’s opinions were always questionable.”

“Yes, but she was right about this! Come on, Draco, you must know it too! How unstable and treacherous is love magic? It’s cheap tricks for children, nothing reliable.”

“And yet …”

“And yet what, exactly?”

Draco waved his wand, two glasses of aged firewhiskey floated into the room. He took his own and swallowed the contents in one swoop.

“You’re really that shaken about it.”

“I built my entire life around Harry. Thirty years together. I don’t want it to end because of a stupid soulmark.”

“It doesn’t have to end. That’s just a mark and it can disappear in a moment. Maybe it’s already gone. What are the chances that the other person who carries it is around here or … on the same continent, for that matter. You are so worried about it and that’s why you practically stripped me naked in your living room!”

“I didn’t strip you naked.”

“The shirt I’m currently wearing is a vintage Valentino. I’d destroy you, my love.”

“It was never torn and it’s obviously a fake.”

“It’s authentic. I stole it from Daphne.”

“If we could focus on the main topic …”

Pansy rolled her eyes.

“Yes, the main topic! I suppose you could find out who is the lucky winner of the soulmate lottery and if there’s actually a chance between them and your husband. By the way, how Harry reacted to this?”

Draco tightened his lips in a painful grimace.

“I haven’t told him. Harry didn’t notice the mark.”

“You should have told him, Draco!”

“I know … possibly. How could I?” he insisted. “There’s a person somewhere who has the right to be … to be with him. And I don’t. The last thirty years of our lives were a scam. Please Harry, take your things and thanks for the memories!”

“That’s very dramatic.”

“But it’s true,” he retorted. “It is what it is and … thirty years together, Pansy, including that time when we were hiding from everyone and still pretending we hated each other.”

“Draco …”

“I can look with fondness even at those times and I still … I still feel very strongly for him, as silly as it may seem after all these years. He’s mine. He’s the only one I’ve ever … _he’s mine,_ Pansy. I won’t have anyone taking him from me.”

The witch sighed ever so softly.

“I don’t think someone would ever be able to take Harry away but … what if … what if there was another person? If you are this worried … I really don’t think Harry would ever leave you, maybe he would come up with some sort of arrangement and …”

“Yes!” he snapped. “Some arrangement! Just like your first husband, Pans!”

Pansy got up immediately, eyes ablaze with fury.

“Don’t you ever, Draco Malfoy! Don’t you ever! I came here and I tried to be supportive of you. How dare you?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to …”

“Oh, you meant it well enough!” she accused, pointing a finger a him. “And it’s such a fucking low blow!”

Draco closed his eyes, shook his head.

“Do you think that hurting me will cause you to hurt less?”

“Forgive me,” he repeated, answering Pansy’s harsh glare with all his honesty. “I wanted to hurt you because … that’s what I do when I’m in pain. I hurt others. I’m so very sorry, it really was a low blow.”

She stared at him in silence, then took a breath.

“I can forgive you. I haven’t seen you this bitter in a long time.”

“I’m afraid,” he admitted.

*

Wearing his old uniform, perfectly cleaned up for the occasion, and his hair pushed back, Draco made his entrance into the Ministry of Magic. Once upon a time, people would have looked twice at him, so strikingly blond and utterly charming, walking down the halls. Now the appreciative feedback he received was more random and mostly from people of his own age. He bit his lip viciously.

Was it about his insecurity, his fear growing stronger as his hair grew thinner? And who would find him attractive or fuckable at this point of his life?

Surely he was still in good shape, and graceful and charming when he wanted to be, but he was also a fifty-five year old man – _fifty-six in June, his treacherous brain meticulously provided_ – and he despised the idea of decline connected to the aging process. He also despised his own vulnerabilty about it, so different from Harry’s attitude and his serene amusement at every physical discovery: his almost all white hair on the back of his neck, the wrinkles around his mouth, his back pain when they made love standing up.

Harry embraced every moment of it, as if it was a blessing to be alive and reach his age. Draco understood his reasons and secretly basked in his happiness for life.

The chatter from the attendant by the door interrupted his thoughts.

“Good morning, Mr Malfoy! I was … not expecting to see you here,” the man said. “I thought … Sally thought … Sally told me, really, but I didn’t believe at first because being an Unspeakable is such a great job after all and retirement from it would be …”

“Yes, Spencer. I’m very aware of everyone’s thoughts about my retirement. For all intents and purposes, this is a strictly professional visit and I’d like to climb on the lift and reach level Nine as soon as possible.”

“Yes, sir! Yes!” the attendant babbled and stepped back to let the Unspeakable pass.

Before moving on, Draco took a moment to scan the man in front of him: rambling, overly-excited by mundane happenings … was that the sort of soulmate Harry needed to have? Someone with an easier temper. He chased away the intruding thought and climbed on the lift. Once he arrived at the level Nine, he walked along a dark corridor with no windows or doors, just to reach a small, black one leading to the Entrance Chamber.

Draco raised his wand only once to inform the room of his presence. The twelve handleless doors shifted before his eyes and, once they stopped, Draco moved towards the first one.

The room was exactly as he recalled it, claustrophobically small and empty except for a desk and a file upon it. Draco opened it, feeling the room magic enveloping him, investigating his wishes. He didn’t try to resist, knowing perfectly well that it was impossible. He closed his eyes, aware of the selfishness motivating his actions.

“Please,” he whispered. “I will accept the consequences, I just need to know.”

The file opened as if its pages were moved by the wind.

The soulmark on Harry’s back was on the first page and it was explained that it was part of a prophecy, spoken by S.P.T. to P.L.P., concerning Harry Potter and a mysterious second person whom identity was to be disclosed in the prophecy itself. Of course, only Harry could have touched the orb.

Draco closed the file.

*

Draco was sitting in the Manor garden, in an old marble bench turned green because of the moss. In front of him poplars were standing slender and proud, and the smell of lavender and roses softened the air.

The wizard thought back at his childhood games, when he used to give different names to the flowers and pretend to assign a task at Potions for each. As a child, he had wanted to be a teacher at Hogwarts and he figured he would have been as despotic and demanding as the role required.

Draco smiled to himself, then turned to his left. His old mother was coming towards him in slow steps. In the recent years Narcissa’s back had curved due to an intermittentpain and her body had become as thin as a twig. Still, she liked to care for her garden.

“Mother.”

“Dinner will be served in ten minutes, Draco, if you wish to join us. Your father is already seated at the table.”

“I’m coming.”

“You are pensive,” his mother noted, sitting next to him. “Is there something wrong?”

“Why do you think so?”

“You pick this spot when something bothers you.”

He smiled and took her bony hand.

“Tell your ancient mother what she can do to help you.”

“There’s nothing you can do, not in this circumstance.”

Narcissa sighed.

“It is about Harry?” she asked.

“Mother,” he questioned. “You’ve been a Malfoy for such a long, long time now. What if … what if they told you it was a mistake, that your life should have been different? That you should have been with a different companion?”

“That’s a futile question, my darling. Life isn’t about what-ifs, things are what we make of them,” she firmly replied, but then held her son closer and spoke softly to his hears. “If you ever wonder, I had a moment like that, a long time ago. You surely remember, because none of us will be able to ever forget the war. I chose to stay at your father’s side and I don’t regret my choice. It was mine alone to make and nobody can take that away from me.”

Draco nodded and kissed her hand with devotion.

“I’ll join you at the table in a moment.”

*

Lucius was very old and tired, yet still interested in appearances. He sat at the head of the table, pristine black robes and a silver cane close to his hand – this time it wasn’t about making an impression on strangers.

Draco leaned over to kiss his cheek and took a seat between his parents. The plates with broth appeared in front of them.

“We didn’t know you were planning to dine with us,” Narcissa said, trying to justify her menu choices.

“Not at all,” Draco replied. “The broth looks delicious.”

He took a spoonful and swallowed its content. They sat in silence for a while.

“Son,” it was Lucius’ turn to speak and he coughed before doing so. “How are you doing? Is everything good with … everything? With your husband?”

Draco wanted to submerge his head in the broth.

“Of course it is,” he said instead. “Why do you … yes, Harry is just busy.”

“I was wondering …”

“Lucius, let us enjoy the dinner first.”

“Of course, my love, I didn’t mean to impose, but …”

The house-elves called, Narcissa stood up immediately.

“Just a moment, darlings.”

Draco grabbed his spoon and squeezed it tight like a wand. He recognized the sound of Harry’s footsteps and closed his eyes, preparing for the worst.

“Lucius …” Harry’s voice was calm, he wasn’t apparently angry. “Draco. I was looking for you. You didn’t tell me you were going to visit your parents.”

Draco’s cheeks blazed up. He didn’t had the courage to look at his husband, not just yet, and he took a breath, staring at his plate.

“Lucius,” his mother started. “I think we need to give our sons some space.”

“But I just sat down to eat dinner …”

“It can be moved to another room, dear.”

“But …”

“Here, let me help you,” she whispered, leaning to support him.

Draco had to stop the urge to join them with the excuse of helping his old father. He let go of the spoon, resigning himself to the idea of having to face Harry. He was a grown man, after all.

“I have a soulmark, Draco.”

 _Maybe_.

“On the left shoulder,” Harry said. “Since yesterday. I didn’t know before because … well, this thing is so tiny and I can’t see it properly, but I was at the Burrow earlier and an accident happened with Hugo and Teddy’s new invention …”

“Figures!”

“And my shirt was torn to pieces and they discovered the mark. Rose told me what it meant.”

Draco rolled his eyes, silently cursing the intelligence of Granger’s offspring.

“I figured that you noticed before me, since your reaction at breakfast and those questions.”

“You figured that …”

“Honey, you married an Auror,” Harry deadpanned.

He sat down next to his husband who was having a moment of ‘Malfoy dignity,’ staring with pride at nothing in particular.

“Do you want to tell me what you thought?”

“No. What did you discover? Are you aware that there’s a prophecy concerning you and your soulmate?”

Harry sighed.

“Yeah. I went to the Ministry, they pointed me to the bloody Hall of Prophecies and I got down there. I hate that place.”

Draco turned to look at him.

“It reminds me of … you know.”

Harry took a dark cloth out of his coat pocket and placed it on the table, revealing a shining globe.

“Is that …”

“Yep,” he replied. “It carries Trelawney’s voice. Can you believe it? More than fifty years and this woman keeps on poking her nose in my private business.”

“She doesn’t do it on purpose, you know.”

“I’m starting to have some doubts about it.”

“Harry …”

“No, you listen now!” he said. “I imagine what you thought discovering the mark, it’s all over your face to be honest, but Draco - it means nothing! It’s just a prophecy telling me that maybe somewhere in some place there will be someone who loves me … but I already have that. It’s you.”

“How can it not matter?” Draco protested. “It’s your future! Your happiness!”

“I’m happy.”

“Not like you could be with …”

“I _am_ happy,” Harry replied with iron determination.

Draco looked at the orb again.

“Have you heard the words?”

“Yes, when I touched it first. Something obscure about suns, stars and what not.”

“Have you tried to …”

“No! I won’t have this, Draco. You listen to me …”

“It’s my turn now!” his husband replied. “Do you think I’m pleased about this? That I’m not as angry as you? You’re my spouse, for Merlin’s sake! I pronounced vows for you in front of everyone I cared about and you …” His eyes softened, his voice trembled. “ _I love you.”_

“Draco …”

“I don’t think I ever tell you as much as you should hear it … I love you, Harry.”

Their hands clasped together. Draco was wearing the golden ring Harry used to propose. He never really took it off, since Harry gave it to him. He understood it was a Muggle tradition to wear rings to confirm one’s commitment and he liked it very much. It was good.

“I spent all the best years of my life with you and I’ll always be grateful for that. I’m … I don’t believe I’ll ever be able to _share_ you with someone else. And I know it’s not even sharing, that more than two people can be happy together, but I don’t think I’m able to make that choice and I don’t want to ruin your happiness. I do love you, with all my heart.”

Harry kissed him on the mouth, fully. He felt the tickle of two silent tears clashing against his skin and stroked Draco’s cheek.

“You won’t have to make that choice, because I’m making one right now.”

He grabbed the orb and smashed it against the wall. There was just a glimpse of light and the prophecy was lost forever as well as the mark.

“Harry!”

“And that’s how it ends.”

“What did you do?” Draco exclaimed, looking outraged. “Now you’ll never know what it all means, how to interpret the words and figure out the right answer!”

“That was exactly the point, love. I will never know. I need to stick with what I have.”

Draco’s eyes widened. Harry spoke once more.

“When I was born my fate was decided by a prophecy like that. My parents died, many good people died, because a madman chose to believe in it. And that’s the thing with prophecies: they only become real when you put your faith in them. That time it could have been me or Neville Longbottom and Voldemort chose me. What would have happened if I was not chosen? We’ll never know. Prophecies are what-ifs put in the air and I refuse to have another decide my fate,” he smiled. “Draco, we’re married. You truly love me and your things are still in the house. Do you want to keep being married to me?”

The Slytherin looked around, bewildered.

“Yes, yes … I want that.”

“Then it’s settled,” Harry whispered before kissing his lips. “Mind if I join the dinner? I love your mum’s elves’ cooking.”

**Author's Note:**

> This work is a part of an anonymous fest and the creator will be revealed no later than March 30. Please comment here or at [our community on Dreamwidth.](https://hp-goldenage.dreamwidth.org/60206.html) Thanks! ♥


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